


Like Animals

by Cielos_Cambalache, volatileSoloist



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Blood licking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, light gore, roadhog´s big and glorious hands, sex under drugs influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cielos_Cambalache/pseuds/Cielos_Cambalache, https://archiveofourown.org/users/volatileSoloist/pseuds/volatileSoloist
Summary: Junkrat is an impulsive manic. Roadhog is greedy animal.What could possibly go wrong?--------------------------------------EDIT- Now some major corrections added; thanks to my Beta reader @volatileSoloiste





	Like Animals

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first fic ever! I wrotte this for @ericjdraws and @mmmbcnn_ow; two Roadrat artist who were drawing about Junkrat being bandaged up in a ~~ sexy moment~~ And you know what?? I freaking love the idea!!  
> Okay, also, pls consider that english is not my first language, so if there is any mistake PLS TELL ME, or if you consider the tags need some help, too.  
> Enjoy!!
> 
> VERY SPECIAL THANKS to my Beta @VolatileSoloiste, who helped me a lot to correct the wording without changing the meaning. Your help and effort is super welcomed!!!!!

Gunfire. Shouts. Explosions. Metal against metal. The heavy footsteps of Hana's mech over the pavement. Soldier 76 barking orders. Blue spheres of pure energy smoothly crossing the distance between Symmetra and the unfortunate group of guns-for-hire who were too slow to get out of the way in time.  Sharp icicles cutting the thin air. His hook covered in the bloody guts of some poor bastard. The joy in the chaos of the battle.

Roadhog was having fun.

“Push harder! We're almost there!” Winston's deep voice echoed in the wide tunnel, an attempt to encourage his teammates as they fought for survival, shoving a big, heavy safe on the chirring wheels of the steel cart. The rails under them had long ago crumbled from rust. Not the most reliable transport for a container full of some of the most dangerous chemical weapons in the world.

But, it was still better than having them in the hands of Talon. Now, they would be buried over a hundred meters underground in an ultra-secret military facility in Portugal.

The lights in the tunnel were fading away. If it was a tactic meant to distract, or maybe the generators were too close to the gunfire, Roadhog didn't know. But they were getting closer to their ship, heavily guarded by turrets, doors open to get them out of this hellhole in just a few more minutes. Just a little more, and the pandemonium would be gone, with them in the safety of ten tons of iron and missiles in the hands of one of the best pilots in the U.K.

But in the meanwhile, Roadhog was having a good time, happily slaughtering people with his hook. He felt bullets graze his skin and turned just in time to see Reinhardt's shield shatter under the implacable barrage of ammunition. His armor would surely have suffered a lot of damage were not for the protective barrier that was put over him an instant later, and the wall of ice that raised up from the floor just a few moments after that.

 _Oh well_ , this was becoming a little more serious now.

Roadhog was starting to worry when he heard one of the most delicious sounds in the world, at least for him. Mad laughter resonated in the depths of the tunnel. Ten meters over their heads, running in catwalks hidden by the dark, Junkrat gave the final pull to the cord of his infamous RIP-tire, sending it roaring over the wall of ice. A few seconds of panicked screams later and the explosion shook the ground. A sudden silence fell over the Overwatch agents.

So that’s where Junkrat had been. Heh, clever asshole. Roadhog loved how he always found a way to sneak up on and surprise his opponents, and that’s a lot to accomplish for a guy whose preferred weapon included TNT and nitroglycerin.

Soldier 76 was the first to break the silence.

“Fawkes!” Jack shouted, and Roadhog had to resist the urge to shoot the commander's legs off. Their names were something only permitted in the intimacy of their bedroom. Hear any other person using the words ‘Jamison Fawkes’ made him cringe.

The answer came in the form of faint hyena laughter from the darkness of the catwalks over their heads. “Yes, Capi?” Junkrat asked from above.

“Good job. Stay up there," Soldier begrudgingly said. “Now, that should buy us a few minutes,” he continued in a firmer voice, the affectations from his many years in the military showing, “If we act quickly maybe we can reach the Orca before—"

A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the other side of the tunnel. Everybody's attention snapped to stare at the inscrutable dark behind them.

“W-what was that?” Mei asked, signaling to her little floaty bot to turn its lights up as bright as possible. It didn't help too much, and the other side of the tunnel remained hidden in shadows.

“Don't know, but I'd prefer not to stay and find out,” McCree said, lighting a cigar and starting to head to the other end of the tunnel, where the ship waited for them. For a man who dressed as a cowboy in the year 2078, he sure was making a lot of sense.

The group silently agreed, and focused on pushing the payload as fast as possible. Whatever that thing was, it had settled an uneasy feeling in Roadhog's gut. They worked, now more focused than before, but even with the Strongest Woman in the Word and a three-meter mech, it was a delicate and heavy task. The only lights provided were the glowing lanterns carried by some of their partners. It was a slow march.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they saw a vague light in the distance. Five hundred meters, maybe less, and they'd be in the sunlight again. Someone started whistling. A good sign.

Despite everything, Roadhog's instincts were screaming danger. Something was wrong... something was stalking them.

Suddenly, a loud whirring echoed through the tunnel. Behind them, red shiny dots started to appear, assembling into a massive form made of what had to be tons of iron and titanium. An amalgamate of armor, weapons, giant claws and cannons. It was huge, barely fitting in the tunnel, and six pointy legs clacked loudly as the abomination started to approach them at an alarming speed.

The members of their team with long-ranged weapons started firing, but neither the bullets of Jack's pulse rifle nor McCree's old but reliable Peacekeeper managed to perforate the blind giant. The purple beam from Zarya's particle cannon shot toward the beast, but didn't even make a scratch. D.va fired her mech's guns ceaselessly, but without results.

They were in a tight spot. If they were lucky, they would only lose the payload on their way to the surface.

“Hey, Snowflake!” Junkrat's voice sounded from over the gunfire. “How 'bout you buy me some time with yer icy wall, huh? Like, for 'bout two point five minutes?” His trademark laugh ended the sentence.

Knowing that Junkrat had a plan made Roadhog feel confident that maybe they wouldn't die here. Junkrat's plans usually looked senseless or impossible, but be it actual skill or dumb luck, they never failed. Lately, Roadhog was becoming more sure that it was the former.

“Fawkes, you have one minute tops!” Soldier 76 had overheard the request, and before Mei could object to anything, he was signaling to her to put up the ice wall. If Morrison had just plainly gone along with Junkrat's idea, it had to mean that he was really desperate. But it wasn’t like anybody else had a better plan. Or a plan at all.

Soon, all possible barriers were rising. Symmetra's hard-light walls took a little longer to create, but held their form the best (that is to say, for about fifteen seconds before they were leveled by the claws of the machine). Zarya's graviton surge managed to pull the monster only few meters back, but every little bit counted. D.va’s defense matrix was at full strength, but still wasn't anywhere near enough.

Roadhog took a firm stance and unloaded a full load of scrap on the Thing, trying to focus on the legs. He took the heavy recoil the best he could, using his large body to anchor himself, but in the end, there was almost no difference. Every shield failed, every bullet was useless. The red lights lingered over them threateningly. Slowly, the huge weapons started to focus on their targets.

“FAWKES!” Soldier 76 shouted, finally losing the martial composure.

“I'M GOING, I'M GOING!” Junkrat could barely be heard in the distant catwalks, and a moment later he screamed at the top of his lungs, “ROIGHT! EVERYBODY BACK NOW!”

The team started to retreat quickly. Roadhog trusted Junkrat. He trusted Junkrat with his face, his name, his life. Still, all of his instincts were screaming for him to disobey his “boss”, to hook him back to the ground, to take him and run to the safety of the surface, to forget about Overwatch, and Giant Robot Monsters, or international terrorists with bioweapons.

But he trusted Junkrat. He retreated as well. Alone.

The claws destroyed the last hard-light wall standing. It advanced toward them, energy weapons starting to charge.

Roadhog trusted Junkrat.

The explosion was brutal. For an instant, all shadows retreated from the fire, the heat, the light. He was harshly thrown to the floor by the immense force. Rolling over him, the flames rose up to the ceiling of the tunnel, like flowers made of hellfire. 

The structure trembled, and Roadhog really thought he was going to die buried here. He closed his eyes, and heard the devastating noise of metal being crushed under what had to be millions of tons of rocks and soil.

And then, the world became a dark tomb.

Time passed. It could have been just a few seconds, or maybe minutes. Roadhog didn’t pass away. He couldn’t see anything, nor hear more than his own thoughts. And the only thing in his mind was Junkrat.

And then, noises. Coughing, movement, voices mumbling. A lantern cast its beam of light, and Roadhog finally started to recognize shapes. The Overwatch group. All of them, slowly rising and trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. They looked shocked, but not harmed at all. There were debris all around, yes, but none of it was especially big. And the payload, the damn thing, was still intact.

There was no sign of any Iron Atrocity Ready to Murder Them All, either. Or maybe it was heavily buried under that gigantic pile of rubble less than a hundred meters away from their position.

Junkrat had collapsed the tunnel over it. That fucking suicidal, maniac genius had managed to create a fully controlled demolition in less than two minutes, with minimal collateral damage.

It surely would be something to admire if he weren't so worried. Junkrat wasn’t here. There was no unhinged cackling, no cheering voice praising the magnificent destruction. He started to hear his companions talk, but didn't care about what they were saying. His lungs tightened, and his blood boiled. He snatched a lantern from someone else’s hand, ignoring the surprised reaction, and ran to the mountain of rocks that was the now the Iron Monster's coffin.

There was no sign of Jamison; just dirt, rocks, and crushing weight.

“…Rat…” Roadhog called. There was no answer. Not a single movement to indicate any kind of human life under the lethal debris.

“JUNKRAT!” Roadhog screamed. He really screamed, shaking the last boulders into place. The silence was like a death certificate he didn't want to believe. Roadhog clenched his fist. Junkrat was somewhere under there, he was sure. And he was alive. He had to be.

Roadhog was an animal, and all his senses howled at him to to search for his mate.

He started moving the wreckage, not because he had a plan, but because it was better than doing nothing. But every rock lifted only revealed more rocks under it.

He was blinded by rage. How could Junkrat be so stupid? He was a survivalist; he had made it through the apocalypse, through the radiation, through the starvation, dehydration, and bounty hunters. He was an expert with his bombs; he wouldn’t just do something like this without thinking about a way to survive. Right?

A golden light from behind him distracted him from these thoughts. He turned to find Mercy, and he was sure that if it had been any other teammate right now, he would have snapped their neck. But Mercy always carried a halo of hope and calm around herself. Even now, in the depths of this cave, surrounded by desperation and darkness, her unworried eyes revived the faith that was slowly dying.

Faith that Junkrat was alive.

He turned, ready to resume his task of moving debris, but Mercy spoke calmly, “Don't do that. If you move the wrong rock, the entire pile could come crashing down. If Junkrat is under there, we need to be delica-”

“WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO STAY HERE AND DO NOTHING?!” His guttural voice and the harsh tone did little to scare her away. She had years of experience in dealing with desperate relatives and worried friends. She knew better than to start panicking.

“Please, Roadhog, I need you to step back and wait.” And with that, she glided towards the top of the pile. Her Caduceus Staff moved like a compass, and she closely watched the several instruments and screens attached to her Valkyrie suit. She pushed buttons and readjusted the position of the staff, the golden light taking different patterns.

She was scanning the pile for any signs of life, he supposed. He thought about starting to move rocks again, but he didn’t dare disobey her. She was right, after all.

Some Overwatch agents started migrating to the pile, carrying orders to help. Zarya was first, and then Symmetra. Zarya tried to move the debris, but was faced with the same response Mercy gave to Roadhog. Instead, Satya stared at the pile for several moments, and then began to move her arms to create a miniature, but surprisingly accurate, projection of it.

Hana made her way over in her mech, providing stronger and brighter lights. She was talking about how the rest of the team was moving the bioweapons’ container to the ship, and that they would come as soon as possible with more help and medical equipment.

Roadhog was about to explode. He was basically useless, unable to help or protect Junkrat. And he was growing impatient. His mind started to slide to a very dark place, drowning out the conversation of his companions.

He was going to murder everybody in Overwatch, starting with Soldier 76. It has been his fault for rushing Junkrat. Or maybe McCree, who had brought the information about the damn stupid weapons in the first place. He was going to tear out the throats of every bastard in this stupid organization. Then he was going to brutalize every damn Talon agent, find the son of a bitch who designed the damn bot, and cut all his limbs off  and make him-

“Here!” Mercy exclaimed. She was pointing a place more full of twisted metal than rocks. He could just barely recognize it as one of the claws. It looked heavy. But Mercy had spent years developing the technology she was using now. He had to respect that.

He made his way over slowly, so as not to disturb the rest of the pile. But, when he reached where Mercy was, there was no sign of Junkrat. He expected something, a visual, to spot at least some of his blond hair or hear a sound. Instead, there was just steel, dirt, and rocks.

It was infuriating, this sense of futility. To know that Junkrat was dying under him, that every millisecond another breath was being taken away from him. Roadhog was about to lose all patience and just try to bend the metal, when Mercy firmly asked—no, ordered—him to leave.

And any other day, he would just have killed her right away for such proposition. But he was too busy feeling something he hadn’t felt in decades: weakness.

For once, it was too much. He heard her trying to explain something but everything blanked out. He sunk down, falling to his knees. His head felt light, and the sounds around him were muffled. He saw Symmetra building a structure around the twisted claw, but couldn’t understand what it was. He saw Zarya holding rocks in position, throwing some or keeping others in place, but didn't recognize a pattern. He saw the big pink mech ever so slowly bending bars of steel, the face of its pilot focused while maneuvering the controls with extreme caution.

He tried to stand but none of his muscles moved an inch. Time passed. And every measure took ages.

Finally, Mercy signaled the small rescue team to stop. The wings in her Valkyrie suit folded themselves compactly, and she carefully descended through the narrow hole made between the rocks. He waited. Mercy's voice came shortly after.

“Symmetra? I need you to make a neck brace. Quickly!” There was urgency in her tone. But it meant Junkrat was alive, and that was all that mattered now. He was still fighting.

Satya complied, and soon she gave cervical collar to Mercy, still glowing faintly from its strange, bright energy. Then, she started working on a stretcher, the blue shiny strings from her mechanical hand drawing elongated forms. Roadhog gave thanks to any gods he could think of for having this set of skills on his side.

Little by little, two bodies emerged. Mercy was gently dragging Junkrat out by the armpits. When they were both finally out, everybody held their breath, and Roadhog's heart skipped a beat. Junkrat wasn’t moving at all. The quiet was unnerving; he would gladly tolerate days of incessant babbling over this.

If there was any blood, Roadhog couldn't see it. Junkrat’s body was completely covered in a heavy layer of dirt and soot, much too thick to distinguish any lacerations. He began to walk towards them.

“Step back.” Mercy's command was absolute. The next few tense minute made Roadhog go numb. She began to work with her staff and the various gadgets of her suit, hurriedly injecting liquids and substances he wasn't familiar with. Her brow was furrowed in worry as she added pressure pads and secured the body to the stretcher on the ground. Then, she began CPR.

She pumped at the center of his chest, one, five, twenty times, and then tried to breathe life to him.

No response.

Mercy didn't panic, steadily trying again. Press, count, breath… Nothing. Press, count, breath... No response… Press, count, breath… Hana turned away, and Symmetra covered her mouth and lowered her head. Press, count, breath… Roadhog was ready to start slaughtering everybody. Press, count, breath…

Junkrat gave a choked gasp. For a fraction of second, the body spammed, and then went limp again. Nothing else, and Roadhog though he had given his final breath. But Mercy let out a relieved sigh, her instruments beeping again. Junkrat was alive. For now.

The stretcher unfolded its wheels, and they carried Junkrat to the ship. Angela never left him, still attending to the limp figure, even while moving, checking his pulse and breathing, applying chemicals and pressure. The immensity of the tunnel was ominous, now even more desolate than before, barely lit even with the team’s lanterns. They were practically running, moving as fast as they could, but Roadhog still felt like it was too slow.

They reached the end of the tunnel, and the rays of brightness bathed them in their warmth. Under the new, powerful sunlight, Roadhog could finally see Junkrat clearly.

It wasn't a good sight. The hard-light cot was covered with pooling blood; if he hadn't seen any wounds the first time, he was becoming aware of them now. The parts of Junkrat’s body that weren't covered in dust were decorated with dark purple bruises. His breaths were imperceptible, and Roadhog feared that maybe the CPR had indeed failed. There were splinters and shards of metal embedded his body. And he was pretty sure the left arm wasn't supposed to bend like that.

The Orca welcomed them as the team finished boarding, finally securing the goddamn weapons. Some people tried to talk to Mercy, to ask her what had happened, what Junkrat’s state was. Mercy sent them away and rolled Junkrat right to the infirmary of the ship. She was just about to close the door behind her, but Roadhog tried to step inside anyway.

“Roadhog, I need you to—” Mercy started, but Roadhog grunted in annoyance.

“I’m not leaving him,” he rumbled.

“Yes, you are. I need my focus, not to mention a sterilized environment. If you want him to live, you will NOT be entering!” And with that she slammed door shut.

Roadhog just stood there. A big part of him wanted rip the door open and stand in there, gun pointed to Mercy to make sure she did the best possible job.  It took a lot of self-control not to do it. Instead, he took a step back, leaning against the wall. A subtle shaking let him know the ship had taken off.

The clock ticked. The waiting game began. This wasn't an opponent he could just crush with his bare hands, and that made him furious. He needed to murder something.

He heard steps approaching, but didn't turn his head.

“Zarya told me what happe—” Soldier’s sentence was interrupted by his own cry of pain as a large hand closed around his neck and slammed him against the wall. Jack wasn't carrying any weapons. Foolish, all things considered.

Roadhog let out a low growl. He considered at least breaking a leg or two. But right now, that would only make the situation worse. He needed Mercy focused on one patient only.

So, for now, he loosened his lethal grip enough to let him breathe.

“If he dies,” Roadhog make sure his tone held a serious threat, “everybody here dies.” And with that he let go.

Soldier stepped back and stared intensely at Roadhog. He was evaluating the situation, no doubts. If he was a clever man, he would just retreat without a word. If he wanted a life without limbs, he would try to calm Roadhog down. If he wanted a painful death, he would try to reprimand him.

Apparently Jack got the message, just nodding silently before going back to the common area. Roadhog almost lamented the soldier’s decision; he really would have liked some violence right now.

He sat on the ground and stared at the door. His mind didn't hold the stillness his body showed, instead racing with all the possibilities. What if they had to turn Junkrat into a semi-omnic abomination, like that strange ninja dude? What if he really didn't make it? Roadhog couldn’t imagine a life without Junkrat. Not after all these years.

They landed an hour or so later, still without any news. The team abandoned the ship, but Roadhog didn't move; Mercy hadn’t left the room. After a few minutes, Ana Amari approached with a new stretcher. This one was different, bigger, smoothly levitating in the air thanks to the anti-gravitons under it. All kinds of technological gadgets surrounded the cot. A more suitable option for a medical emergency than the “primitive” cot Symmetra had built. Ana greeted him with her head, and entered the room, closing the door behind her.

The minutes became half an hour before they were out again, carrying Junkrat in the new cradle. He didn't look any better, and now there was respirator and several tubes and cables attached to him. At least he was clean.

Roadhog was about to say something, but Mercy interrupted him.

“Not now. We need to take him to the intensive care unit. Surgery is required.” She said the last part in low voice.

Roadhog grunted. The Gibraltar medical wing was once one of the most advanced in the world, and had housed of some of the most renowned surgeons and professionals in the field. Right now though, Angela Ziegler was its only “employee”.

Still, there wasn’t any other option. Mercy had been very clear.

“…And I need you to take off his prosthetics,” she added.

Well, at least Roadhog could help with that. Angela had been clever not to try herself. If she had assumed there was a secret mechanism that would have left her hand with third degree burns, she was absolutely correct.

After twisting hidden gears and bolts, the stumps were freed. The peg leg was broken in half, only being kept together by the spring. Junkrat was going to be mad.

Serves him right for being a suicidal cunt, Roadhog thought. Mako, however, was wondering if Torbjörn could lend him a hand so it would be ready by the time Junkrat awoke. Jamie was going to get up and happily go blow shit up again, Roadhog was sure.

 _She'll be right_. Either that or everybody here was going to die. Mako included.

 

It was almost dawn by the time a very tired-looking Mercy got out of the operation room, her usually tight ponytail now messy, her always tidy smock bloodstained. She removed the latex gloves and medical mask as she approached.

Roadhog awaited, hand over the hook. In many senses, her next words were going to be life or death...

_“I’m so sorry to inform that he didn't make it, but…” She said, and Roadhog splattered her head against the floor. She had no chance. Fareeha came running to her, and kneeled to hug her beheaded body. She had started to shout, “Monster!” at him when his hook pierced her chest. He went to down the hall, ready to slay anyone who tried to stop him…_

Roadhog blinked. Mercy was speaking softly to him.

“Mr. Rutledge? Are you with me? Are you alright?” Roadhog snapped back to reality. Mercy was still there, trying to tell him something….

Roadhog shook his head and grunted. He finally managed to ask, “How did it go?”

Mercy gave him a relieved smile. “He'll be fine,” she announced, and Roadhog immediately relaxed. Her next words came in the form of a long rant about the extensive injuries and fractures Junkrat had suffered, the wonders of modern medicine (Many of which she had developed herself, mind you) and the future treatments he would undergo.

Roadhog barely understood half of it, so he decided to get to the point, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“So when will he be out again?”

Hearing his voice seemed to take Mercy by surprise, but she replied, “Please, you've got to understand that he is heavily sedated right now, and to ensure…”

“When?” Roadhog cut her off.

“He won’t be leaving the infirmary until next month, at least. And I refuse to wake him up for the week.”

Roadhog groaned. Loudly. It was going to be a long month, he knew.

The next three days were unnerving. It was almost comical, how dependent they had become of each other; symbiotic, you could say. The first day was fairly okay. He tried to distract his mind in the garage, polishing every inch of his chopper. But when the night came, the room felt too empty, too silent. He should have hushed Junkrat at least a dozen of times by now. There was nobody to have his back, to share warmth with, to tinker and move and make a mess of the blankets by his side.

The second day he made sure to unleash chaos and destruction in the practice range. By the end of the session there wasn't a single machine standing. Wires couldn’t replace the good feeling of hot bowels in his hands, but it would have to do.

Problem was, by the third day there was nothing trivial left to break in the base. Something was growing inside him, something lethal, and he couldn't pinpoint what it was.  A long lost part of him, Mako, offered words like ‘worry’, ‘grief’, ‘anger’, ‘guilt’ and ‘dismay’. Roadhog didn't listen, instead opting to go down to the cliffs near the shore, where he let out guttural cries, shouting insults to the universe.

And finally, the night of the third day came.

The clock struck one A.M, and Roadhog sat restless on their enormous bed. There was no one else as the hallways of the HQ, which were engulfed by the gloom of the night, yet he still has his mask on; he hadn't taken it off since arriving. His heavy breathing and the hoot of a night owl outside the window were his only company. Roadhog closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep.

Soon, however, he started hearing noises. Someone was walking outside in the corridor. Strange, it didn't sound like any of his teammates.  It wasn't the quick, light march of Tracer, or the firm tromping of Reinhardt.

Somebody knocked at his door.

Roadhog blinked.  That was even weirder. People didn’t talk to him unless they absolutely had to. And definitely not at this hour. For a moment, he wondered if he had finally gone nuts, but the knocking sounded again.

Roadhog stood up, and went to open door.

Darkness. Silence. And then….

“Hey, mate.”

_Fuck._

What with his patchy hair, scrawny frame and grimy coat of soot, Junkrat usually easily managed to look like shit on daily basis, but this took it to a whole new level.

He was sweating bullets and panting hard, leaning his weight against the wall, but barely holding himself standing. He was wearing the loose medical gown, but his leg and shoulders were totally covered in bandages, with his left arm encased in a plastic cast. Half his head had dressings as well, and a compress was fixed over his left eye. Thin plastic tubes were still hanging out of him, leading to an IV bag dragging behind him.

And above all, joining the unfocused stare, was that manic grin of his. That awful, feverish, oh-so-lovely grin of his.

Roadhog wanted to do a lot of things. First, he wanted to punch Junkrat right in the face for being so imprudent, so impulsive. But he also wanted to embrace him and kiss him, and make sure he was safe, and that this was real. And he wanted to run and call Angela to warn her, and ask her to put him back to rest under the care of the infirmary.

All of that came out in the form of simple question.

“…The fuck you doing here?”

“Hmm…?” Junkrat's only visible eye focused on Roadhog. It took him a moment to be able to answer. “Oh, bed was bad back there,” he casually said, and leaped on one leg to the inside of their room.

Roadhog was astonished.

“Did you just hop all the way here?”

“Course not.”

Well that was a relie—

“I crawled too.”

_Fucking shit._

Junkrat hardly made it to their shared bed before collapsing on it. Roadhog knew he ought to call Mercy, to carry Junkrat back to the medical wing and pump a stronger cocktail of drugs so he wouldn’t move for the next few days like he was supposed to. _That was the right thing to do._

But Roadhog was a greedy man. The nights without Junkrat had been so frustrating thus far. Okay, maybe just for tonight, and he would call Angela first thing tomorrow.

He locked the door and joined Junkrat in bed, finally starting to relax. It was comforting, having his partner at his side again.

The peace lasted for about two minutes before the soft titters started. Junkrat crawled over him, pressing his lips over his forehead in sloppy kisses. Roadhog let it go on a little longer before stopping him.

“What are you doing?”

Junkrat answer was a series of giggles. “Gotta take care of my Hoggie!” He hummed.

Roadhog looked at his eye. The pupil was dilated to its extreme. His mouth was open, drooling slightly.

 _Of course. Of fucking course._ That was how he had managed to reach the barracks with half his bones broken.

“You’re high.” It wasn't a question.

Junkrat raised an eyebrow, still smiling. He leaned for another kiss.

“Get. Off. Me.” Roadhog wanted to sound firm and intimidating. It didn't work.

“But Roadie,” Junkrat whined, “you’re feeling cranky, ain't ya? Lemme take care of ya, Hoggers.”

Alright, he knew Junkrat was perceptive but this was downright ridiculous. Maybe they really were synchronized. It was kind of creepy to be honest.

Junkrat took his hesitation as confirmation to advance again, now planting wet kisses all over him. He stopped at Mako's pierced nipples to tug at them, sucking right after to alleviate the pain. The toxic combination was poisoning what little resistance Roadhog could offer. Junkrat bit softly and Roadhog let out a moan.

He practically could feel Junkrat's smile. He had lost, and Jamison knew it.

Junkrat start to lower even more. His sweatpants were quite a challenge for his wrecked hand, but that didn’t stop him. After a little bit of fiddling, Roadhog’s shaft was freed, and Junkrat started licking at the head.

Roadhog inhaled sharply; Jamie’s mouth had never felt so good. Roadhog let him work on his length, the warm tongue of his partner enveloping him. His erection began to grow as wet lips swallowed him. Junkrat began to suck, going deeper every time.

Junkrat's breathing didn't sound quite right. Roadhog put a hand on his head, but didn't press. He was trying to deepthroat him, and failing miserably.

“Damn…” As much as he'd hate for him to stop, Mako knew Jamison was hurting himself. “Rat, stop…”

Junkrat didn't obey, and continued, until a sudden coughing attack forced him to stop. Roadhog took the opportunity to put some distance between them. He placed his hands on his cheeks and forced him to look up. Their stared at each other for a few second before Junkrat began giggle and leaned for a kiss. Their tongues fought for a moment before Mako pulled away. Too much, and Junkrat would be out of breath again.

“Lunatic…” was all Roadhog said. He easily maneuvered Jamie to lean down on the bed, sprawled as much as he could, and then bent over him, taking care not to crush him under his weight.

If Junkrat wanted to do this, fine. But he wouldn’t let his boss get himself killed for a blowjob.

Roadhog took the gown off, which made Jamie's smile grow even wider. He started running his mouth over what little skin wasn’t covered with bandages. Junkrat usually reeked like sulfur and gunpowder. Tonight, however, he smelled like antiseptic. But there was something else, something metallic. Under the dim light of the room, he could see red stains blooming under the dressing. He had reopened his wounds, probably due to the overexertion.

Roadhog grunted, low and fearsome, almost like a growl. Something animalistic woke up within him. His teeth nibbled at the bandages and slowly began to tear them apart, pulling and ripping them off one by one. Soon, the bed was a mess of blood stains and white fabric.

Roadhog took a moment to appreciate the sight. Beneath him, Junkrat was panting hard, his back arched, exposing a map of fresh scars and open wounds. A few brave stitches still held their place, but didn't do much to keep him from bleeding lightly.

Junkrat's face was pure delight.

Roadhog moved closer. The smell was strong and heady, numbing his reasoning, making his humanity take a few steps back. He started licking the thin gashes, cleaning the blood with his tongue, the iron aroma clinging right to his mind.

Jamison only moaned, letting loose breathless chuckles from time to time.

“C'mon, Mako.” So it took Junkrat being high as a fuck and half dead to remember his name. Good to know.

Roadhog pressed his face against Jamie's inner thighs, kissing them. There was less damage here, but he still paid careful attention to them before moving to his crotch. His dick was fully erect, reddened and swollen, but it would have to wait a little more. Roadhog had other plans. 

Mako pressed his mouth against Junkrat's hole and heard him shudder. He teased the entrance, feeling the muscle ring accept the intrusion eagerly. Jamie practically melted when he finally pushed his tongue all the way inside.

It was good, intoxicating, to taste him like this as his hand moved to give a few strokes to his own neglected dick. Junkrat really was making him feel better and Roadhog was sure it wasn’t just the gratuitous root. It was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

He continued to lick at his entrance, making sure to eat him out until Junkrat was practically boneless, quickening his tongue mercilessly as he felt the soft skin against his nose.

“Please…”

The disruption of his moaning changed the course of his thoughts. To leave Junkrat alone while he searched in the nightstand for the lube wasn't pleasing, even if it was just for a few seconds.

Soon, Roadhog was back in position, fingers now covered in lube. He gave a few kisses to Junkrat's cock before his index finger began to slip inside him.

Jamison reaction was immediate. He gasped, and for a moment Mako feared that maybe he had hurt him, but his face and the subsequent grin only showed pleasure.

Mako took his time, making sure to progress slowly, giving Jamie time to process the intrusion. His finger stretched him lovingly, going in and out, twisting and pushing. After a few minutes, a second finger made its way in, scissoring deep inside, pressing all the right spots. Roadhog's mouth closed over Junkrat's dick as the other moaned his name and reached out to his head with his casted arm, trying to pet his hair.

Roadhog was leaking precum and he honestly couldn't wait anymore. Once he felt Junkrat was more than ready for him, he positioned himself over him. His erection aligned with his hole, and he gently started pushing. Every inch made Junkrat wail, crowing praises for his bodyguard.

Once his cock was all the way inside, he stroked Jamison's bandaged head; Junkrat happily leaned against his hand. He took a moment to appreciate the warmth against his palm.

Ever so slowly, he began to thrust, trying for a tender rhythm to make sure not to break anything else.

“Mako…” Junkrat's voice was breathy and small. “I love ya, mate,” he said. “Love all of you, ya fucking…” His words became unintelligible as his eye rolled back. He went almost limp, like a ragdoll.

Roadhog placed one hand on a bony hip, while the other traced the magnificent criss-cross of cuts all over his chest, smearing the blood that welled up there. He felt the firmness of his abdominals, the sharp bones of his clavicle, his harsh ribs. Mako was gradually losing himself, his lust and instincts taking control of his body. The heat in his crotch began to spread throughout the rest of his body, bringing strength to his muscles, setting his mind on fire. He was so close…

Once again, Mako was losing ground to Roadhog.

He didn't realize he had hardened the pace until Junkrat let out a genuinely pained moan. That snapped him back. Despite the urgency in his member he stopped to look at his partner. Jamison was barely breathing.

“Rat? Fuck, I'm...” Mako didn't get to finish the phrase before a manic cackle burst out of Junkrat.

“Why'd ya stop, Mako? It was getting good,” he babbled, "So, so good mate.”

Damn sickening idiot. Roadhog want to kill him for being so suicidal. He felt the guilt growing heavy on his shoulders, a new weight to carry.

_Fuck._

“Roadie?” His tone was concerned now. He knew something was wrong. It was almost surreal how well Junkrat could read him. “Mate, c'mon over ‘ere.” He raised his arms as much as he could to reach for him. Mako complied.

Junkrat gave sloppy kisses in the top of his head. “Ya worried?” he mumbled.

Roadhog nodded, and murmured, “Gonna hurt you.”

It took Junkrat a moment to give an answer.

“Nah, ya won't.” He sounded so sure of himself. Well, as sure as someone loaded with drugs could sound anyway.

“But—” Roadhog began to protest, but Junkrat shushed him.

“I know ya won't, Mako,” he said.

That was everything he needed. All his insecurities fell from his back, relief flooding him. Goddammit, Jamison messed up his head oh-so-badly. He could say the earth was flat and Roadhog would believe him.

Mako went back to his position. “Deep breaths,” he commanded before he began to thrust again.

It felt so good and hot, the heat building in his abdomen, desperate for release.  Junkrat kissed the palm of his hand, making soft wet noises. Roadhog used his other hand to start jerking him off, varying the pace, making him last without torturing him. Not tonight.

It wasn’t long before he came inside Jamison. It was so sudden that he was left breathless, gasping. Once he came down, he trailed his hands lower on Jamie's body as he moved to caress his dick with his soft lips, sucking him off steadily.

Junkrat moaned in pleasure, and with incoherent babbling, he tried to warn Mako that he was close as well. Roadhog didn't care, though, and when Jamie came he made sure to swallow every drop of his seed, hot and salty.

For a moment, both of them laid blissfully in their bed, catching their breath, savoring the moment, enjoying the aftermath. Roadhog was just about to fall asleep when his mind began to clear again. Right, he had to make sure Junkrat wouldn’t bleed out or get infected during the night.

It took a great effort for him to leave the warmth of their bed, but he got up and walked to their shared bathroom, reaching for the medical kits. One of them was the compact, clean, modern-looking kit Overwatch provided. It contained auto-needles, nanobiotic pills, electronic devices and spray-on bandages*.

The other was a heavily-used, ragged bag they called “Medkit”. It was full of much more primitive items; balms, clean-ish dressings, peroxide and rubbing alcohol, compress and expired painkillers. It was worn and old, but it had kept them alive and kicking more times that they could count.

He took both.

He prepared some damp towels and returned to bed, finding Junkrat almost fast asleep. Roadhog chuckled, and started working on cleaning him. Junkrat practically purred when the cold fabric was pressed against the hot skin, and he didn't complain in the slightest.

His next move was to disinfect the wounds, just in case. “It’s gonna sting,” Roadhog warned before applying the peroxide over the cuts. Junkrat just giggled, “It tickles,” but didn't protest at all. He applied some of the ointment and creams—old recipes his tipuna had taught him a lifetime ago, alongside the new marvels of organic-reconstruction technology.

Finally, he applied new bandages and compresses, throwing the old ones into the trashcan. He tenderly wrapped his chest and abdomen again, trying to move Junkrat as little as possible, adding poultice where the cuts were too big. Mercy would have to sew them back up in the morning.

It was almost 2:30 A.M. when everything was settled, and Roadhog was sweaty and sticky. He could feel the trails of dry semen and blood stains over his belly. Ugh. A quick shower was in order.

The cold water did wonders for him. He finally managed to feel grounded, forgetting about the troubles that had plagued him over the last few days. For a moment, he considered that maybe all of this was a fantasy, an illusion; that he would return to his bed to find it cold and lonely again. He quickly brushed the thought off. Had it been any other person he would have doubted himself, but his partner was more than capable of this kind of madness.

Junkrat coming to the room had been a miracle. He really was in a better mood, pleased, whole and content. Roadhog laughed, and it was a welcomed feeling.

By the time he exited the bathroom, Junkrat was out cold in the bed. Roadhog made his way in too, careful not to disturb his mate. He pressed against him, the contact driving him to calm.

Roadhog was absolutely sure Junkrat couldn’t hear him, but he still spoke in a very, very low voice, “Love you, James.” He closed his eyes, ready to sleep.

“Love ya too, mate.”

Roadhog chuckled. Oh well. So much for trying to look as a tough guy. He probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning, anyways. Didn’t matter, he reasoned.

Jamison was at his side. Mako could feel safe again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!  
> If this had good reception I promise I´ll writte a second part!  
> Also, you have no idea how much I would apreciatte coments :D
> 
> ** For once i didn´t made shit up, this thing actually sort of already exists.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScvdFeh1aOw
> 
> Again, VERY SPECIAL THANKS to my Beta @VolatileSoloiste, who helped me to correct a lot of wording without changing the meaning. Your help and effort is super welcomed!!!!! 
> 
> On side note-- OMG I got my work corrected by another fic author *Garnet Voice* I´t makes me feel important


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